


tumblr requests

by aglowSycophant



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/F, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Pre-Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, before u ask no im not writing nsfw, chapter ratings are included in the title, rating might change idk, warnings if needed are in beginning notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-18
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-06-02 11:10:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19440247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aglowSycophant/pseuds/aglowSycophant
Summary: tumblr requests from ship/ask memes! all prompt lists will be linked





	1. (K+) agent 96 -- kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **anonymous asked:**   
> 
>
>> It was a tough choice, but ❤ for Agent 96.
> 
>   
> 

It’s not often that they all have days where they’re free.

Three’s usually busy with Grizzco shifts. The pay’s decent - or, decent enough - but the hours are long and inconvenient.

Four’s normally preoccupied with Ranked matches and tournaments, especially now that it’s summer and the prime turfing season. Whenever Three sees her, she usually has a new neon ink stain, and they’re always a pain to wash out.

And Eight’s mainly been busy with work at Ammo Knights. Again, it’s prime turfing season, and the sudden boom in active players means a sudden boom in weapon sales, or weapons that have to be fixed, or... Weapons that quite literally go boom. She enjoys it, at the very least, even if the strong metallic scent of weapon polish clings to her clothes no matter how much they wash them.

But today is one of the rare days where they’re all free, and Eight suggested they get together and do something. They all ended up meeting up at Three’s place, which she thought was kind of odd given that she objectively had the shittiest apartment out of all of them.

Still, so far they’ve done... Really, nothing.

Right now, Three’s sitting on the couch next to Eight while Four’s rummaging through the boxes shoved in Three’s closet, trying to find a movie to watch. Three leans against Eight’s shoulder and exhales slowly. She closes her eyes and Eight takes her hand, rubbing small circles into it.

Four reenters the room and looks over at the two. Three briefly opens her eyes and then shuts them.

“Hey, I found a movie,” she says. “It’s Princess and the Duck, hope you don’t mind.”

“Ooh! I love that one!” Eight replies. Three doesn’t have to see her face to know she’s smiling. “I don’t understand why Pearl doesn’t like it, though...”

“Pearl’s full of shit,” Three mumbles. Eight laughs softly. “It’s true. Princess and the Duck  _ slaps.” _

“Maybe so, maybe so... Hey, so, is it all drawn, then? Like... Y’know,” Eight asks, probably making more than a few gestures as she speaks.

“Yeah,” Four responds. “At least, I think so? It’s 2D, so I figure it had to have been...”

Another bout of silence settles over them.

Three feels Eight shift beneath her weight. Something similar to dread settles in her stomach. Not dread, per say, but... Gay dread.

Does that make sense..?

Whatever.

Still.

Moments later, Three feels a soft pair of lips press a kiss to her forehead. Three doesn’t squeak at that. What she squeaks at is the  _ other _ pair of lips - equally soft! equally nice! - pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Now... It’s not like Three’s never kissed anyone before. Or, in this context, been kissed before. Or, even more in this context, been kissed by Four or Eight.

But this...

This is a coordinated attack.

This is  _ planned. _

This is  _ super-effective. _

This is still enough to  _ overwhelm the horribly gay, squid-shaped mass that is Three. _

Three lets out a horrible squeaky noise like a pigeon being shoved in a paper shredder and then shifts into squid form, softly slapping against the couch cushion.

Four looks down and quietly says, “Oh dear.”

Eight, on the other hand - being the  _ jerk _ that she is - just laughs. She crouches down and gently places a hand on Three’s forehead.

“You butt.”

Three shifts back and glares at Eight, blushing.

“That’s not  _ fair,” _ she whines.

“Nuh-uh... All’s fair in love and war!” Eight replies.

Four laughs to herself as she takes a seat beside Three. “Do you even know what that means?”

Eight shakes her head ‘no.’ “Buuuut, you didn’t laugh at me or call me stupid, so it’s gotta be sorta right, right?”

“I guess,” is the only response Eight gets as Four rests her head on Three’s. A second later, and Eight shifts on the couch, resting her head on Three’s lap.

“... You guys are the worst,” Three mutters.

“We love you too,” Four says, taking Three’s hand. At the same time, Eight chirps, “But you love us anyways!”

“Yeah,” she quietly agrees, unable to stop herself from smiling. “I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [list](https://gayg3nt.tumblr.com/post/185983176163/send-me-a-symbol-for-my-muses-reaction-to)


	2. (T) agent 24 -- hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: char death
> 
> **anonymous asked:**
>
>> muse get hurt ✄ + Agent 96 or 24?

It's an infiltration into Kamabo. Agents 3 and 8 were sent to retrieve some files for Agent 7. They were on their way to a huge breakthrough now - just a little more and the Kamabo case would finally be done with, they would finally be able to move on with their lives, Inkopolis would finally be at _peace._

And then they were attacked.

This part of Kamabo was supposed to be safe. Of course, they had still been alert - they always were, it was their job - but an ambush is an ambush, and...

Eight managed to fend off the sanitized octolings, but Three went down. Eight had to keep fighting - she had to, otherwise they'd... they'd _both_ be dead - but as soon as they were dispatched, Eight raced over to Three's side.

"Three?!" she calls, dropping to her knees and pulling the younger agent towards her. "Three, are you- Are you okay?"

Once Marina made a painting, one of the ocean, with thick blue stripes and streaks raised like mountains as if the Earth shifted with the touch of her brush, as if Marina controlled the waves, water, the moon itself, and the wet paint looked nothing like the rich blue that's gushing from Three's stomach right now, slick and warm - too warm, too cool - sticky and thick, gathering around and staining Eight's fingertips, collecting around the edges of the gash and tumbling over the edge, and Eight's breath comes out ragged and fast and Three's is coming out shallower and shallower and fainter and God, it's so much easier to think about Marina's paintings than - it's easier to make an awful comparison like this than to... To-

"Hey," Three rasps, and her voice is weak and fading too. "Eight, it's... Calm down, okay?"

"What do you _mean,_ calm down?" Eight's voice sounds snappish but Eight isn't angry - Eight isn't calm, Eight isn't... She's _scared._ She's scared, so scared, because Three might- She might, she could... Not be there anymore, so Eight can't be calm, she... "Three, you're- You're _hurt,_ I can't just-"

"You said help is coming, right?" she asks. "It's gonna be alright, won't it?"

Her voice is faint and far away like the room that's spinning round Eight. It wavers, wavering beyond the weakness that comes with- With- _Injury,_ and Eight belatedly realizes Three is _scared,_ that's she's _terrified,_ that- That she knows she might...

Not make it.

Fuck.

"Y-Yeah," Eight mutters with a nod, a nod too shaky to be truly convincing. "You'll- It... Yeah."

"See?" she breathes and her eyes lid shut. "We're- We're in range of the spawn point still, right?"

Well... No. The spawn points are only for the city and the areas surrounding them. That's why Pearl tells Eight to be careful whenever they go to the beach, that's why Marina doesn't let Eight get too close to the water, that's why they never leave for more than an hour at a time.

"We are," Eight tells her, and Three nods ever so slightly against Eight's arm. Her breaths are coming back shorter, coming back lighter, faster, as if her lungs aren't taking in air and are just moving, as if- As if they can't, as if-

Oh, _God._

"It's okay, Eight," Three reassures. Her voice is slurred, too weak to form syllables correctly now. "I'll be fine."

(She isn't.)


	3. (T) agent 24 -- kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **anonymous asked:**   
> 
>
>> ❤ for agent 24
> 
>   
> 

It’s towards the end of their meeting. Eight’s temper grows shorter and shorter with each second - Three is too stubborn, too angry, temperamental to a fault and Eight simply wants to go home and sleep.

When Three grabs Eight by the tie and tugs her forwards, Eight sighs quietly in relief. They’ll be done with this soon. She’s not surprised by it, not really, although her neck hurts a little. It’s become routine, in a way, like all of their interactions have.

She waits quietly for Three to say something. Anything. It’s how it always goes, after all. Three speaks first, Eight pretends her words don’t get under her skin, and then she leaves.

Three stays silent. Eight gives her a few more seconds to find her words.

The way Three’s looking at her now is a mesh of... Anger? - no, it’s more like frustration, and some other thing Eight can’t quite place.

At this proximity, Eight can smell Three’s breath - slightly sweet with a hint of spice. Maybe cinnamon? Her breath always smells of cinnamon (Each day, Three does this, Three pulls her forwards and hisses a goodbye and Eight has to go on with her life pretending she didn’t wish for the distance to be gone) and Eight wonders if Three eats anything with cinnamon in it daily. She has to, right? Yet Three strikes her as the type to constantly promote healthy eating and shame those who eat anything with more than five grams of sugar in it. Maybe Three simply has a box of cinnamon mints she keeps somewhere on her desk or in her pocket like Eight does with her actual mints. Maybe Eight is way too preoccupied with Three’s mouth.

It’s almost intoxicating, being so close. Eight longs to be closer, she longs to kiss Three, to kiss her again and again until they’re both dizzy and out of breath, but she knows she must stay strong. She knows Three wants it too from the way she stares at her at times like these or how her eyes linger on Eight’s lips when she speaks. If Three wants it so badly, Three can come and get it herself.

This time feels a little different, though. It’s been well over a minute, now bordering two, and Three hasn’t said a thing. She’s stared, but that’s it. No harsh insults muttered beneath her breath, no fury-filled glares like daggers as she sends Eight away, none of it. It’s strange. It’s not the Three she knows, not even the one she knew.

Now that Eight thinks about it, she thinks Three’s blushing, a blush she hopes isn’t mirrored on her own face.

”Do you want something, Three?” Eight asks, teasing in nature. She feels the grip on her tie loosen. If she wanted to, she could pull away easily and the garment would slip through Three’s fingers. She doesn’t. “Or are you just wasting my time?”

Three’s brow twitches for a split second before her grasp tightens and she surges up to meet Eight’s lips.

Three presses into her too aggressively, and Eight grunts softly. Once the initial shock wears off, Eight hooks an arm around Three’s waist right as the other woman starts to pull away. Eight chases after her - she wanted this, for so long, she’s wanted this and she doesn’t want it to end, not so soon - and Three inhales sharply before reciprocating with just as much hunger. It borders on ferocious, perhaps even animalistic, as Three grabs a fistful of Eight’s tentacles to hold her close.

Eight runs her tongue against Three’s bottom lip and soon slips it in. Three moans - honest to God _moans_ \- which is really all the encouragement Eight needs. Gently - _gently_ \- Three bites at it, as if she’s afraid of hurting Eight, as if she doesn’t regularly look at Eight as if she wants to shred her guts and make Eight choke on her own blood. In a way, it’s funny. Not that Eight cares, of course.

It’s overwhelming in the best way.

Eventually, when they part, they’re both pathetically out of breath. Three looks up at Eight with an expression that can only be described as awed, her face flushed dark orange. There’s a slight sheen to her lips, coated in the smudged remains of Eight’s lipstick.

A part of Eight wants to tease her for looking like she just had some kind of world-changing encounter when it was really just a kiss, but Eight’s sure she looks at least a little similar.

Three’s the one to break the silence.

“More,” she demands, voice barely a whisper.

Eight can’t help but agree, and she leans in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [list](https://gayg3nt.tumblr.com/post/185983176163/send-me-a-symbol-for-my-muses-reaction-to)  
> taking august requests up until the 2nd: [list](https://gayg3nt.tumblr.com/post/186545218088/starprompt-send-a-symbol-for-our-muses-to-be)


	4. (T) agent 32 -- dead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **nazi-killing-gizmo asked:**
>
>> △ My muse shows up outside your muse’s door after being presumed dead." With male!agent 32 pwease?

“Eight?”

Four’s front door is open, the cold November air getting in. Still, it’s not the cold that gives him chills.

It’s Eight.

It’s Eight, standing in the doorway with a smile.

It’s Eight, standing in the doorway with a smile and two cups of coffee.

It’s Eight, standing in the doorway with a smile, two cups of coffee, and alive.

Alive.

“Hey,” he breathes. “Uh... Can I come in?”

Wordlessly, Four steps aside. Eight walks in and hands him a cup that Four takes. With his free hand, he shuts the door with a click.

“Do you want me to take off my shoes?” Eight asks. Four takes a few moments to respond, mumbling “Sure” beneath his breath.

His boots come off with two dull clunks, and then the room is quiet.

“Are you going to drink it?” Eight looks down at the cup in Four’s hand and then back up to meet his gaze. “It’ll get cold and then it sucks.”

Four nods, movements janky, and then takes a sip. It’s okay. It’s coffee, which Four doesn’t drink. The gesture is nice. The gesture is from Eight. The gesture is from Eight, who is alive. Somehow, he’s alive. He shouldn’t be. He couldn’t be. 

Eight died. 

Eight is dead.

So he shouldn’t be here.

He shouldn’t be here in Eight’s living room wearing a designer scarf and an expensive jacket with a smile on his face giving Four coffee, but he is.

He is.

“Something the matter, doll?” Eight asks with a blink. “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

Four did. Four wants to tell him he just saw a ghost. Four wants to tell him a ghost just gave him coffee.

“You died,” he mumbles. The words feel foreign on his tongue. Foul. Wrong.

“Oh, that.” Eight cracks a smirk and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, so, turns out I didn’t.” He laughs - raucous, a little grating, casual. Fucking  _ laughs _ , like it’s a normal conversation you have with a normal person that never died. That never disappeared for a month. “Y’know, it was a real pain. Had to deal with a lot of legal shit and everything, but I managed. I always do, of course.” He starts rattling off the events of the month, from big to small, but his details seem more like things from the past two weeks and not right afterwards and not how he didn’t die and--

“Why are you here?” Four blurts out. Eight is here. Eight is alive. Eight is alive in his living room talking about fighting a seagull for a croissant. “How... How did you get here?”

Eight blinks, smile fading. Then he laughs again. “I walked, baby. I wanted to see you, so I came here.”

Four takes a deep breath and closes his eyes and opens them and then his vision is blurred with tears that are hot and molten and angry and relieved and Eight is alive - Eight is alive! - but he shouldn’t be and he doesn’t know why and then Eight’s hands are holding his face - calloused, gentle,  _ his _ \- wiping away his tears and

“Why?” Four repeats, voice shredded and broken and trembling.

“I’m sorry,” is the answer Four gets. “Four, I’m so sorry.”

Eight only calls him Four when he’s serious. Four hasn’t heard him do that in seven long months.

“Tell me,” he breathes. “Please.”

“I can’t.” His thumb brushes against Four’s cheek again, touch soft and loving and  _ Eight’s, _ and the reality of it all sets in - Eight’s alive. Eight’s fucking alive. Eight’s fucking alive and touching him and Four never knew how he took this for granted before. “You’ll know soon, but I can’t tell you. Not yet.”

“Why?” Four feels like a broken record, asking the same questions on repeat. Four feels broken, pleading to his living ghost. “Why not?”

Eight smiles, and it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he asks. “For now, isn’t that good enough?”

Four doesn’t know the real answer, but he nods nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [list](https://gayg3nt.tumblr.com/post/186545218088/starprompt-send-a-symbol-for-our-muses-to-be) but currently not taking requests


	5. (T) agent 12 -- bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **absol-co asked:**
>
>> ☽ for Agent 12?

Three has been in situations before. All kinds of situations. Fun situations. Not fun situations. Situations where she’s been shot at. Situations where she’s shot at people. Situations where the word situation is starting to not look like a word anymore. Sexual situations? Maybe. She won’t tell. You know, situations, the kinds that normal people experience.

However.

Three has not been in this kind of situation before.

“So, uh...” Four’s voice trails off. She looks away from Three to look at the bed and then looks away from the bed to look at Three. “Do you want to sleep there?”

“Uh.” Well, there aren’t a whole lot of other options. It’s the bed or the floor or the bathtub, and two out of three options there will probably lead to some kind of disease because this place is fucking nasty. Hell, maybe the bed will give them a disease too. She wouldn’t be surprised if she woke up the next morning with, like, deaditis. “Do you?”

Four rolls her eyes.

“Are you offering?”

“Offering what?”

Four rolls her eyes again. “To sleep on the floor.”

“What?” This place is shitty. This place is probably full of spiders and shit, because that’s how that works. “I. Uh.”

“Okay, then that settles it,” Four says, more to herself than Three, and then she unzips her jacket and shrugs it off and wait wait wait hold on when did we get here uH-- “Geez, do you have a staring problem or something?”

“Um,” Three announces very eloquently and that means _‘Yes’_ in Three-ese. “No. I. Uh. Sorry.” 

So Three tears her eyes away from her very hot coworker (is that a sleazy thing to say? dear whatever higher power is listening, three is sorry) and starts screeching internally. Okay. So. Something was settled. Something revolving around the floor or the bathtub or the one bed. Okay. Cool. Three can deal. Probably. She doesn’t see herself living past thirty anyways so dying at eighteen of some horrible floorborne disease is cool. Super cool. Super mega ultra cool oh what was that noise was that a belt buckle hitting the ground ooooookay Four would have the decency to wear underwear or something yes haha don’t worry about it you hear that three? that means don’t picture four in her underwear don’t do it fuck okay you’re doing it okay okay maybe stop thinking about it uhhhhhh

“... Were you even listening?” Four eventually asks. Three jumps and then looks over at Four who is clothed and pretty much just wearing her uniform, thank God.

“Whuh?” Three says very eloquently and that means _‘No’_ in Three-ese.

Four sighs and rolls her eyes again. Three is beginning to suspect that Four rolls her eyes a lot.

“I was asking if you were okay with sharing the bed,” she clarifies. Three has to fight the impulse to go “Whuh?” again. Because she heard that right... But did she? Did she really? Is Three going to sleep with Four? NOT LIKE THAT SHE JUST. UH. HAHAHA YOU KNOW... “I can take the floor if you’re not okay wi-”

“NO,” Three responds calmly at a normal volume because Four may be hot but Three is stoic and cool and calm and CALM. “I. I mean. No. I’m. Yeah. I’m. Fine with it.”

Four pauses for a few seconds and gives Three a look. Three opts to give her a thumbs-up.

“The bed’s small,” she comments, looking at it instead of Three. “I know you don’t like being touched much, so... Sorry if things end up being uncomfortable for you.”

Oh no. She’s right. The bed _is_ small.

“And, um... If I start snoring, just, like... Punch me. I dunno, I just think it’d get annoying.” With a small laugh, Four smiles. Three laughs a little too. Haha. Okay. It’s like yawning, but gay. Laughter is gay yawning! You heard it here first. “Do you know what time we have to be up tomorrow?”

“Uhh... We have a meeting at 12:00 PM tomorrow,” Three replies. At least, she thinks it’s at 12:00. It’s either 12:00 or 1:00, and she’d like to be on the safe side. “It’s 11:13 now.”

Absently, Four nods. “You get ready if you need to, I guess. I have some paperwork to finish...”

“Okay,” Three mumbles. As Four turns around to go find her bag, Three sighs to herself.

One night. This is just one night.

* * *

It is roughly 2:00 AM.

The room is cold. Maybe the thermostat is low. Maybe it’s because the place is so poorly built that when the cold air outside blows it sort of gets in the room too. Three is also cold. Funny how that works, right? Yeah.

Anyways.

The bed isn’t as uncomfortable as she thought it’d be, which is nice. Three doesn’t know how the blankets feel. She would if Four didn’t steal them. She can’t steal them back. That’s rude. She can’t be rude.

Four’s back is warm. Three knows this because Four’s back is pressed against hers because the bed is smaller than the dick of an ant. Not that Three knows how big an ant penis is or anything. Sorry if you were interested in knowing the size of an ant cock. But, uh, the bed. It’s small. Three is also kind of cramped because she’s trying not to touch Four that much because she doesn’t want to be weird.

Four is asleep and snoring softly but, like, not in an annoying way. Actually, it’s cute. Really cute. And it’s doing wonders to Three’s heartbeats. A lot of wonders.

A corner of one of the sheets is resting on Three’s leg. Gently, she tugs at it. Four makes a small noise in her sleep and then yanks it away. Now Three has even less blanket than before. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaay.

She sighs.

Okay. Well. It’s one night. And Three has slept in worse conditions. Granted, she was actually unconscious because she slammed her face into a blender, but the point still stands. Three just has to slam her face into something and then she’ll pass out and she’ll be asleep. Would the noise wake Four up? That wouldn’t be good. Back to the drawing board then.

How long does Three have to be awake to pass out from exhaustion? Or dehydration? She’s done it a lot, but the details remain hazy. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that she tends to smash her face into something whenever she inevitably falls when passing out. Maybe she’s just really concussed. That would explain a lot.

But. Um. Yeah. Four is warm. Nice and warm. And Three is cold. Bad and cold. 

Gently, Three presses back against Four. She doesn’t move or make any weird sleep noises so it’s probably okay. Maybe if she turns on her back she’ll be a little closer..? Oh wait shit the sheets are cold ooOOOOOKAy right got it okay. Okay. Four time. Four is warm time. Just. Maybe. Scoot a lil closer oooookay yeah this is marginally better hey four smells really nice what shampoo does she use not that it matters of course haha oh god three should just die already

Maybe... Maybe Three can move her leg a little bit closer to her. Not in a gay way (what the fuck does that even mean in this context?????) but in a yeah. It’s in a yeah. Okay. Hmmmmmm Four has warm legs. Would it be okay if Three, like, rolled over a little more? Not in a spooning way, Three just needs warmth.

Three tucks her arms in towards her chest and her fucking frigid digits are slightly less frigid now that they’re between Three’s chest and Four’s back. Plus there’s a little bit of distance between the two, so it’s not spooning. To make sure it’s 100% not spooning, Three moves her legs back a little. See? Not spooning. It’d be spooning if they were closer and if Three had her arms around Four or something, but she doesn’t so it’s not.

Three is still cold. Like, really cold. But not really fucking cold, so it’s a bit better. Yeah. She can probably sleep like this.

Right.

Okay.

One last time, Three sighs. Her eyes lid shut and then she lays there for fifteen minutes and finally, _finally_ falls asleep.

* * *

Three wakes up and isn’t fucking frigid, so she’s a little (a lot) confused.

First of all, she’s... Warm. In a comfy way. She can feel the slightly itchy fabric of the blankets, and those weren’t on her last night. Or this morning..? Whatever.

Then there’s something equally warm holding her. Which, hm, **what the fuck is holding her.**

Her eyes snap open and she briefly panics before she realizes that it’s just Four. Okay. Cool. Her eyes start to close again and then **wait a fucking moment hold on** **_Four is holding her????????????_ **

Three’s head is pressed against Four’s neck which is also warm and comfy and aaaaaaaa _aaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_ Above her, Four snores quietly. And her snoring is still _really fucking cute._

Three makes a feeble attempt to worm out of Four’s grip. Four tells Three to go fuck herself and pulls her closer. Ooooookay. Got it. This is. Hm. Warm. Comfy. Kinda gay. It’s not gay if she doesn’t like you back, right?

...

Okay, well... It doesn’t seem like Four is willing to move anytime soon.

From this angle, Three can’t see the clock, but she doubts it’s all that late anyways. It won’t hurt if she just... Closes her eyes for a bit, right..?

* * *

Three stirs in Four’s arms and yawns.

“Oh,” Four says, voice gravelly. “You’re up.”

“Hi,” she mumbles and rubs sleep from her eyes, blinking slowly. “Um. How are you?”

“Okay,” she offers, shifting a bit on the bed. “Did you sleep okay?”  
Before, no, but Three honestly feels well-rested and it’s... Thanks to Four. She feels her face warm because wow Four really held her while she slept huh? That’s... Okay. No homo? Maybe?

“Um... Yeah,” Three replies, suddenly feeling awkward. Hooray! It’s weird now. “But, uh... Why..?”

“I woke up at 5:00ish to pee,” Four explains. “And you were pressed up against my back, shivering. Then I felt bad, so I tucked you in and then I peed and then I went back to sleep and in the process of getting comfy...” Her voice trails off. Three’s face heats up some more.

“Oh,” is all Three can really say. “Um. Thanks.”

“Sorry.” She pauses for a second, then adds, “For stealing all the blankets.”

“It’s fine,” Three mumbles. “You’re, um... You’re really warm.”

Four laughs quietly and it rumbles in her chest. “Thanks, I guess?” 

Three shifts a little against her.

“It’s nothing,” she mutters. At a louder volume, she asks, “Do you want to eat something?”

Dryly, Four snickers. “There’s barely anything here. This place is, like, in the middle of nowhere.”

“Spiders,” Three blurts out. “There’s probably tons of spiders in here. I bet spiders are high in protein.”

Four’s arms tighten around Three and pull her a bit closer. “... I’m an arachnophobe,” she says quietly. “If I find any spiders, can you kill them for me?”

“Uh. Yeah, sure.”

“Thanks,” she mumbles, voice soft. “You’re my hero.”

Three laughs awkwardly, screeches internally, and chooses to not mention the fact that she is _also_ deathly afraid of spiders.

(And, for those wondering, they’re late for the meeting.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [list](https://gayg3nt.tumblr.com/post/186545218088/starprompt-send-a-symbol-for-our-muses-to-be) but currently not taking requests


	6. (K) no ship -- home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **anonymous asked:**
>
>> I wish you would write a fic where.. eight legitimately considers going back to octo valley
> 
> some spoilers for the [eight adapts](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1346644) series

{Did you know anyone there?} Lukas asks quietly, legs swinging to-and-fro. From where they are, they can see all of Moray and the bustling streets beneath them. {Back home. In the Valley.}

{Yeah,} Eight admits quietly. She sees two red cars driving below, and they’re gone in an instant. The sun is setting now. They didn’t have the sun in Octaria. They didn’t have anything like this in Octaria. She should be grateful. She is.

{... Did they come with you?} he asks. He doesn’t look at her. She doesn’t look at him. {You’re... The only _oktaje_ I’ve seen here.}

Eight doesn’t remember those times, from before she left. She tries not to think about them, but a part of her always is. They’re family, after all. Maybe not by blood, but they’re family. Like Pearl. Like Marina.

She remembers the flashdrive, though, the one she has stashed away in her dresser, stuffed in a sock where Pearl wouldn’t check. She remembers their names and the hazy, blurry faces that go along with them, and she remembers a time when she was happy.

But Eight is happy now, though. Eight is happy now.

{... No,} she breathes, even if it’s a lie. She remembers their hand, calloused, with long fingers, holding her own, as the sirens blared and they ran. Eight doesn’t know what happened to them, but Eight can imagine. {I... Arrived alone.}

She remembers the Metro, and the sickly mannequins made of rot, and the mechanical laughter echoing in her ears. She remembers their faces, blank and empty, and she knows that once, they were alive. Once, they were like her. Like Lukas.

She wonders if they entered the Metro alongside her. If they met a similar end.

{Do you ever wish you could go back?} he asks, voice low, blending in with the sounds of traffic. {To... To how it was before the melody?} He laughs, softly, and shakes his head. {Sorry. I’m just... Thinking. It’s been a long day, I guess.}

{No, it’s okay.} She closes her eyes for a second, taking in a deep breath, and remembers broad shoulders, blood-blue ink, and the dull scent of weapon polish. {... Sometimes, I think I do.} She opens them. Eight’s in Inkopolis, on Moray Towers. Eight only has to remind herself once. {I... I miss them. I miss them a lot more than I should. Life’s better here, and... I couldn’t take them even if I wanted to.}

She meets Lukas’ eyes. He hasn’t matured yet, not fully. His eyes aren’t fully green yet. His face is rounder, softer. He’s a child, in Eight’s eyes. He’s barely seventeen, now, when Eight is close to twenty, but he went through what Eight did. She was a soldier, as was he. She was trained to kill, as was he. He shouldn’t miss that. She shouldn’t miss that. They shouldn’t, but they do.

Lukas hums softly. {I understand. I... Have friends like that, too. Had friends, I guess. It’s better here, but... I don’t know.} His legs sway, boots glinting in the light. They’re scratched. Worn. His pants are torn as well. He’s struggled, getting here. He’s struggled, being here. He’s struggled, but he’s surviving.

 _Seventeen,_ Eight thinks.

{We can’t go back, though,} he continues. {Maybe my friends are there, still. Maybe I could convince to come here with me. They could stay with me, if they wanted. It’d be cramped, but I think we could manage.} He slumps forward a little, and Eight pictures him tumbling off the edge. Two red cars. Two red cars, and a blue stain on the asphalt. {If you had a way to go back, would you? It’s... A silly question, but... If you could.}

{Yes,} Eight replies, voice barely a whisper, and she doesn’t realize she said it until it was too late. {I would.}

His eyes stay trained on hers. The sun continues to set, casting an orange glow on his skin. Back home, they don’t have the sun.

{Me too,} he says finally. {But we don’t, do we?}

The Cabin. The NSS. There are kettles she could use, after all. She could do it, if she wanted to. She could.

{We don’t,} she says, lying, and grimaces at him. The look he gives her is pity, but he doesn’t speak again.

 _I do,_ Eight thinks, and doesn’t speak, either.


End file.
